


Gone

by Ambivalent_Oxymoron



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambivalent_Oxymoron/pseuds/Ambivalent_Oxymoron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after season 2, at around the time season 3 would pick up. Coulson makes a decision regarding the search for Jemma which puts the team and Fitz at odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone

Three months had passed. Three months of questioning, of searching, of dead ends. Coulson sighed as the security footage of the abandoned room remained unchanged; the omnipresent monolith unflinching in the condemned space. Someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned to see May leaning against the doorframe of his office.

“No change?”

Coulson shook his head and pushed slowly up from his desk, still getting used to supporting his weight with his artificial hand. “We have no leads. None of the inhumans we’ve questioned have any knowledge of the stone.”

“We’ll get her back Phil.” May moved forwards and rested a hand softly on his arm, but Coulson couldn’t feel the comfort that was intended in the gesture.

“I’m afraid we won’t. I think...” He covered May’s hand with his own. “I think it’s time we say goodbye.”

-0-

Fitz could hear soft music as he made his way slowly down the dimly lit corridor. He recognised it as one of Jemma’s favourite songs, but the warmth that rose in his heart at the memory of her humming along to it was quickly washed away as icy realisation cascaded from his gut. Happy memories were all he had, they would never make any more. The music signified the end, that everyone had finally given up and she would never come back.

Fitz paused and pressed his palm to the cool wall, trying to quell a wave of nausea. He reached to his throat wanting to loosen his too-tight tie, but he couldn’t. He needed to do this for her. He took a few seconds to exhale slowly before continuing the journey he so desperately wished he didn’t have to make. He felt like a magnet, being repelled by the negatively charged force at the end of the corridor. He continued to lift and place his feet, pushing forward even as his mind screamed that this was wrong, that he wasn’t ready yet.

Fitz shuffled quietly into the back of the high ceilinged room, keeping his head bowed. He could feel dozens of eyes on him, people waiting with baited breath to see how he would react. He cautiously looked up and saw Mack stand to beckon him to a seat. He was sat with the rest of the team, all uncharacteristically dressed in crisp suits or smart dresses, all wearing sad smiles with tearful eyes. He was about to move towards them when a voice near the front of the assembly called out to him in a softly northern British accent.

“Leo.” Mrs Simmons rose slowly and extended her arms towards him, her face the picture of silent anguish. He nodded to his team as he passed and made his way towards the woman whose hazel eyes reminded him so much of her daughter. She gathered him onto her arms, squeezing him close in a way she had never done before. It reminded Fitz of his own mother, and he swallowed down a sob. “We weren’t sure if you were going to come.”

Fitz winced guiltily. Since Jemma’s parents had been flown to the base a few days earlier he had done his best to avoid them. They were reminiscing about their brilliant daughter, telling stories about her childhood enthusiasm to the rest of the team, but he couldn’t bring himself to listen. Reminiscing meant acceptance, and he couldn’t do that yet.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, choking back tears. “I should have...”

“Nonsense lad.” Jemma’s father rose and placed a hand firmly on Fitz’s shoulder. “It's been a hard time for everyone.”

Fitz nodded, grateful for their understanding, and took a seat next to them. He kept his eyes cast downward, his neatly ironed trousers and uncomfortable polished shoes in stark contrast to his usual attire. He couldn’t help but think Jemma would have hated this.

The music quieted and the hum of consoling chatter dimmed. Fitz knew that Coulson was now standing on the low platform at the front of the room, getting ready to lead the memorial service. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, knowing what he had to do. After a few controlled breaths Fitz slowly raised his head and opened his eyes.

Fitz had avoided looking at the mountain of flowers and cards arranged behind the Director as he’d entered the room. Funeral displays of ‘Jemma’ and ‘Daughter’ sat on either side of a large photograph of his best friend grinning widely. He recognised it as one of the two of them taken the day they graduated from the Academy, only zoomed in on her face. She had been so happy that day, so ecstatic at the prospect of discovery and adventure. It was one of his favourite photos of the two of them; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to look at it again now.

Coulson had started speaking, his soothing tones regaling a heartfelt eulogy. Fitz tried to slow his breathing as the past-tense of Jemma’s life filled his ears. This isn’t right.  
Fitz’s vision began to swim and he staggered to his feet muttering, “I...I’m sorry, I can’t be here.” He heard gasps around him but couldn’t focus on the sea of faces as he ran to the exit. Once in the corridor he continued to run until he pushed through a heavy wooden door into the bright summer sunshine. He felt the nausea rise up into his chest again as he gasped for air, doubling over against the rough brick building.

“Fitz! What the hell?!” Skye rounded the corner and stopped abruptly when she saw him curled against the wall, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked up at her, blue eyes desperate and lost. Skye crouched beside him, pulling him into an embrace. “Hey, it’s ok. I know it’s hard...”

“No. It’s not hard, it’s wrong.” Fitz’s voice was harsh, anger evident behind his tears. “Everyone is talking about her like she’s dead and she’s not. She’s not dead Skye.”

“Fitz...”

“No! I know you all think I’m being ridiculous but I can’t give up. I won’t give up on her.”

Skye felt a twinge of long buried hope surface in the pit of her stomach but swallowed it back down. She knew it was futile. All of the evidence suggested Jemma was dead. Fitz’s blind hope in the face of overwhelming contradictory data reminded her of his childlike belief in Ward and how crushed he had been when he finally accepted that their teammate had betrayed them. She couldn’t watch as he came to accept that Simmons would not be coming back.

“Come on.” Skye stood and held out a hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

-0-

A few hours earlier the rest of the team returned to the base following the memorial service. They paused next to the Wall of Valour, where ‘Dr Jemma Simmons’ had been neatly engraved next to ‘Antoine Triplett’. It was a sight none of them had wanted to see.

“At least they’re together.” Bobbi squeezed Hunter’s hand as they passed, a gesture not unnoticed by Coulson. The pair had grown closer since Bobbi was shot, and although the Director part of his was concerned about the potential repercussions of their rekindled relationship, he was pleased to see them find some comfort in each other.

Coulson pushed open the door to his office and held it open for May to follow. He poured two glasses of scotch and held one out to her before draining the other. “It was a nice service.”

May nodded. “The Simmons’s seemed to appreciate it.”

They were silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, when Skye pushed her head around the door. “Ok to interrupt?”

“Sure. How’s Fitz?”

He’s...” Skye sat on the edge of Coulson’s desk and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “He’s still coming to terms with everything.”

“It’s understandable,” May said. “They had a special relationship.”

Coulson nodded. “I know he didn’t was us to have a memorial yet, but I think it was for the best. We can’t continue to put all of our resources into finding her when it’s become obvious that there’s nothing to find. I don’t want to seem heartless...”

“It’s not heartless Phil. What happened was terrible, but we still have a job to do. Fitz knows that.”

Coulson gave a weak smile at May’s reassurance. As much as he felt this had been the right decision he couldn’t ignore the small part of him that wondered if they really had left every stone unturned. 

“Do you think I should insist on Fitz taking some leave? He’s been working non-stop since the accident.”

Skye vehemently shook her head. “You can’t send him away. Trying to find Simmons is the only thing keeping him going.”

“But we won’t be trying to find her. I’m worried that if we keep feeding his hope that she’s alive he’ll never be able to grieve properly.”

May moved towards the door. “I can get Andrew if you need some advice?”

“Thanks May, but not tonight. I’ll talk to Fitz tomorrow...” Coulson was cut off as the door burst open and the subject of their conversation strode into the room laden with two packed bags.

“Talk to me about what sir?” Fitz averted his gaze from Skye’s concerned face, fixing his attention solely on Coulson.

“Fitz. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes. I’m sorry sir, but I can’t stay here. After today I... I just think I need to go home for a bit. See my mum.”

Fitz was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, and Coulson felt his heart crack for the younger agent. He clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. “I think a few weeks would do you good. I’ll arrange a jet to...”

“No sir. I mean it, I can’t stay here. I won’t be coming back.”

-0-

The silence of the abandoned room was as monotonous as ever. The granite-like monolith loomed over the vacuous space, held in its glass prison. A low hum began to reverberate from the rock, pulsing in a tone barely audible to human ears. A minute crack appeared slowly in the grey solid, snaking its way across the alien structure. The veiny appearance stretched across the unmoving stone, eventually stopping as the humming ceased.


End file.
